


Forget Not (Forget Me Not)

by ereshai



Series: Various Prompt Fills [35]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7406197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things Clint forgets. There are things he wants to forget. But some things are worth remembering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Not (Forget Me Not)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silentawe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentawe/gifts).



> This was written for silentawe's prompt from a 5+1 prompt meme - Clint Barton - forgetting. (It only took half a year to actually finish it.)

He’s not supposed to care, that’s what Barney says, but it makes Clint sad that he can’t remember Momma’s face. He’s pretty sure she didn’t die on purpose, but Barney is still mad at her for it. That’s why he has that picture of her hidden away and he won’t take it out and let Clint look at it, except on Clint’s birthday. If Barney takes it out on his own birthday, he doesn’t show Clint.

Barney’s gone a lot and Clint gets bored easy, so he pokes around their trailer. Barney’s too smart to hide the picture someplace obvious, and Clint’s looked in all those places a couple of times already. He’s going through their books a few at a time. It’s not like they use them; they’re supposed to get schooling, but there’s no one who can really teach them right now. Barney probably wouldn’t put it in one of them, but Clint checks anyway.

He opens the battered old suitcase that came with them from their last foster home and feels around inside. It’s empty, but there’s rips in the lining and Clint’s seen some TV shows where people hide things like pictures that way. Barney’s seen those same shows.

His fingers find a thin rectangular outline under the lining and he carefully pulls the object out. It might _not_ be the picture he’s looking for, but he’s got a feeling in his stomach, like it’s Christmas and there’s a present under the tree with his name on it. There’s writing on the back, loopy letters he can’t quite figure out and a date. He flips it over and there’s his Momma, smiling big like she always did for Clint and Barney when Daddy was away on his jobs. Her eyes are like Clint’s, which Clint knew, but seeing it makes his chest tight in a happy-sad way.

The door opens and there’s no time to hide what he’s doing. Barney climbs in, hours early, and stops and just looks at him. Barney’s got Daddy’s eyes and the look in them now makes Clint want to curl up in a little ball and hide until he goes away.

“What are you doing, you little sneak!” It’s not really a question. Clint turns to face him as he tries to hide the picture in his hand, but Barney’s not stupid. “You and that picture. I never shoulda saved it.”

Clint takes a small step toward his bunk, then another, until the suitcase is no longer right behind him. “I just wanted to see her.”

“You don’t get to be a Momma’s boy anymore, Clint. Gimme the picture. I’m getting rid of it.” Barney holds out his hand.

“No!” The word bursts out before Clint can stop it. He knows better than to say no, stuff always ended bad when he said no. Daddy’d keep hitting when someone said no; he’d get in a car after drinking all day and take Momma with him. Barney is a lot like Daddy. Less hitting, though.

Barney takes two quick steps toward him and shoves him back. Clint tries to keep his balance, but he sits down hard on the floor. The picture flies out of his hand and flutters to the floor. Barney bends down and picks it up.

“I told you to forget about all that happy family crap,” Barney says and he rips the picture in half. “We never had that and we never will.”

Clint says nothing, his eyes glued on the torn pieces of the picture in Barney’s hand. If Barney would just throw them in the garbage bag, Clint could tape it all back together. It wouldn’t be so bad. But that hope is dashed when Barney digs a lighter out of his pocket and sets the pieces on fire, tossing them into the sink to burn out on their own. Funny how Momma’s face is already fading from his memory again, but he can remember Daddy just fine.

~

It takes Clint a long time to drop his guard around Ray; mercenaries can’t be trusted and Clint knows this from personal experience. He ignores the fact that _he_ is a mercenary; no one should trust him farther than they can pay him anyway. But he and Ray have worked together a lot and neither of them has betrayed the other yet. Clint has no plans to and Ray probably doesn’t either. He’s partnered up with people he’s trusted less and managed to survive.

So he and Ray partner up officially, work a few jobs, get an offshore account they both have access to, share an apartment. They’re business partners. Roommates. Once they start watching tv together, they’re even kind of friends. Clint hasn’t had many friends and it’s been a while since the last one disappeared from his life. It’s kinda nice, hanging out without wondering if he’s about to be stabbed in the back. It’s almost like being married, except for the no sex thing, which is fine with Clint. Clint doesn’t care one way or the other that Ray’s a man and Ray’s an equal opportunity kind of guy, but he is very definitely not Clint’s type. Too many hang ups about who gets fucked and who does the fucking and what it all means outside of the bedroom and Clint has no time for that.

Their current job is protection for some low-level mob guy and his family while the mob guy tries to move up the ranks. The mob guy is scum, but he hasn’t done anything that runs up against Clint’s ‘nope’ list and he keeps his family away from most of it, so Clint has no problem keeping him alive during his power play. And they’re making enough money to put a smile on Ray’s face.

It’s a walk in the park; the mob guy already has decent security, so Clint and Ray are mostly there to make the guy feel better - they’re his ace in the hole if someone does manage to get past his regular bodyguards. Clint hangs out around the guy’s compound, on rooftops and in trees, keeping an eye on things while Ray stays inside. It’s a fair division of labor - Ray’s no sniper and Clint doesn’t have to make too much small talk. They’re living on-site, so it’s easier for Clint to stagger his schedule and not fall into a routine that someone could take advantage of.

The attack comes from the inside - a handful of guards turn on the others, taking out a good chunk of them before anyone starts to fight back. It’s a free-for-all, and Clint has no idea who’s on what side. By some random chance, he’s still in the house, geared up for his outdoor patrol. Ray had just gone to join the mob guy, so Clint leaves the man’s safety to his partner and tracks down the wife and kids. They’re all still alive, frightened as hell, and Clint bundles them into one of the panic rooms the mob guy has littered throughout his home and then heads out to find Ray. He avoids the fighting as much as possible, kills a few people who try to kill him, and finally tracks them down outside the mob guy’s office. The guy is running down the hallway toward the door, which is standing open. As the guy gets closer, Ray steps out of the room. His gun is in his hand and he raises it and shoots the guy in the chest. Clint ducks back down the hallway he’d just come from. There’s another shot - Ray making sure the job is done.

“Come on back, Clint,” Ray calls. “We need to talk.”

“So you can shoot me, too?” Clint might be a fool for trusting Ray in the first place, but he’s not completely stupid.

“There’s no place for morals in this business, Clint. Yours are keeping me from a lot of money.” Ray’s voice is getting closer. “So I’m afraid our partnership is at an end.”

Clint wishes he could say he’s surprised, but he’s only disappointed. In himself. Luckily, the hallway he’s in is narrow and has a high ceiling. He braces himself between the two walls and climbs up. When he’s high enough, he holds himself in place with one hand and aims his pistol as he waits for Ray to show himself.

Ray sticks his gun around the corner and fires blindly three times. None of the bullets come close to hitting Clint and he stays where he is, muscles taut with the strain of holding himself up.

“How you doing there, Clint?” Ray says. Clint doesn’t answer.

After a moment, there’s another round of three shots. Clint lets out a low grunt, only partly due to the effort of keeping himself suspended. He needs Ray to step around the corner. There are shouts and the sound of running footsteps in another part of the house.

Ray darts across the end of the hallway, firing one-handed as he goes. He adjusts his aim as soon as he spots Clint, but Clint is already pulling the trigger. The shot hits him in the throat, just as Clint had intended. They both hit the floor at the same time, Clint on his feet and Ray on his side. There’s a gurgling, rattling noise but it quickly fades away to silence.

Clint keeps forgetting that he can’t afford to trust people. He won’t make that mistake again.

~

Either Clint is hallucinating - it’s hot on that roof, maybe he’s dehydrated - or there are futzing aliens abducting his target. Full on UFO with the guy floating in a beam of light. Huh.

“You don’t need to worry about that. They’ll deal with him,” a mild voice interrupts his moment (or twelve) of disbelief. “If I could just get you to take a look over here.”

Clint rolls to his feet and whirls to face the person who had somehow snuck up on him. It’s a dark-haired middle-aged white man in a black suit with a white shirt and a slim black tie, wearing a pair of shades - typical government flunky. He’s holding up a slim silver object. Instinctively, Clint reaches for his sidearm and there’s a red flash.

“Great job, Hawkeye, one less scumbag walks the earth.” Clint blinks. _Wha-? Who?_ “When you’re ready, give this number a call.” He looks down and there’s a business card in his hand. Everything’s fuzzy, but he can make out a stylized eagle logo. It looks familiar. “I’d ask you to tell Nick I said hi, but-”

Clint shakes his head and looks around. He’s alone on the roof, but hadn’t someone just said something? There’s no sign of his target. He’s pretty sure the guy’s no longer an issue, though he’s not sure why he believes that. He tucks the business card (where had that come from?) into a pocket and packs up his equipment. The day has taken a turn for the weird and he’s going home before something happens.

~

There is nothing in him but the need to serve.

He plans and he fights and he kills and if there is a part of him that wants to stop, it’s buried behind a blue-tinted memory. _You have heart_. He will remove every obstacle from his master’s path, by whatever means necessary.

His master wants intel on the Avengers Initiative and key SHIELD personnel - he shares it without hesitation, every detail, relevant or not. Every name calls up a face, along with memories that feel like they happened to someone else and are quickly forgotten again. Nick Fury. Maria Hill. Natasha Romanov. Phil Coulson.

He is…

His name is…

Not important. It isn’t necessary in order to serve his master; he’ll remember it if he ever needs it, like everything else. He is an extension of his master’s will. That’s all he is.

~

When he’s his own again, the memories of everything he’s done are sharp and clear. The information he had revealed to Loki and SHIELD’s enemies. Crippling the Helicarrier. The people he had killed. Every moment is burned into his brain, waiting for him to close his eyes and relive it.

There are new names on the memorial and Clint knows every one. He also knows which ones he put there personally and they are burned into his memory forever; he should have listened to Natasha. The worst is Phil. Many of the dead had been friends of his; Phil had been so much more than that. Friend could not even begin to cover what Phil had been to Clint – or what Clint had wanted him to be. What he had actively wished for, on his weaker days. Not that he was foolish enough to believe he could have anything like that.

Now Clint wishes he could forget. Not just Loki and what Clint had done at his command, but everything he’s lost. Friends. The trust of his fellow SHIELD agents. Phil and Clint’s dreams of a future with him.

He hasn’t lost everything, of course. But it would be so much easier to remember that if he could forget what was gone.

~

Clint tends not to believe in miracles. He’s never had reason to. His whole life is a testament to Murphy’s Law. But he’s looking at a miracle right now.

Phil Coulson.

Alive.

He vaguely hears Fury’s explanation, but he’s not too worried about it. Fury never does anything without a good reason. What’s important is that Phil is standing in front of him, in front of all of them, and he’s alive.

Clint doesn’t really remember the ride back to the Tower – it’s all a blur. Stark had thrown together an impromptu ‘welcome back from the afterlife’ party. Phil had spent the whole time talking to different groups of people, friends and acquaintances from various agencies mostly, deflecting their probing questions and giving them answers that seemed chock-full of information but were basically a load of bullshit.

And every time Phil broke away from one of those groups, he’d end up next to Clint. Whenever he was lured away again, their eyes kept meeting across the room, as if Phil wanted to keep track of him. That’s what Clint had been doing.

But now the party’s over and everyone’s finally gone home or drifted off to bed (or the lab) except for Clint and Phil. They stand together at one of Stark’s ridiculous floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city. For all they had spent the evening as if connected by an invisible tether, they haven’t actually spoken yet. Clint is reluctant to break that silence.

“Clint,” Phil begins and then stops. “There are reasons – very good reasons – why I stayed away so long. Why we- I let you think I was dead.”

Clint waits but Phil does not go on. “Fury mentioned that,” he says finally.

“It had to be done and even now I can’t tell you exactly why.” Phil stops again.

“I trust you, Phil.” And he does. As hard as it still is for Clint to trust anyone, Phil is one of the few people who’s earned it and kept it.

Phil takes a deep breath. “I had some regrets after... After. But my biggest regret was leaving you behind.”

“I missed you too, Phil.”

“I wanted to-“ Phil takes another deep breath. “I regretted never telling you how I felt. That I love you.”

Now it’s Clint’s turn to take a deep breath. He’s not sure what’s going on with all the deep breathing. Someone’s going to hyperventilate and it’s probably going to be him because this can’t really be happening. But it feels real. He wants it to be real.

“I regretted never asking you out to dinner,” Phil continues. “Never touching you the way I wanted to. Never kissing you. If there’s any way you could…”

“You were gone,” Clint says, his voice rough. “Before I got up the courage to tell you…”

“Tell me what, Clint?”

Clint turns to face Phil. Their eyes lock. “That I love you. And I want all those things you just said, plus a whole lot more.”

They reach for each other at the same time. Their lips meet in a desperate, hungry kiss. Clint holds Phil as tightly as he can, memorizing the feel and taste and scent of him. He wants to remember this forever.


End file.
